


Possessiveness

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, I couldn't help myself, Lizzington - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 13:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20175352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Two-shot based on a tumblr prompt (linked inside) where one half of the OTP gets hurt and the other asks, "Who did this to you?" Chapter 1 is Liz getting hurt and Chapter 2 is Red's turn. Strong T rating for language and adult themes. Lizzington.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on this tumblr prompt: 
> 
> Character A tilting Character B’s chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by B’s mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, B’s heart skips a nervous beat as A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.
> 
> “Who did this to you?”
> 
> link: https://meetmeatthecoda.tumblr.com/post/186832396850/counterpunches-whumpster-dumpster-character-a

“You sons of bitches, I’m suing the shit out of you, just you wait, you stupid fu—”

Liz cranes her head back to exchange an eye roll with Ressler around the Blacklister handcuffed securely in between them, all three of them riding the big yellow elevator to the Post Office, the perp keeping up an endless stream of complaints all the while.

“Oh, shut up already, will you?” Ressler barks, irritation practically seeping out of his pores.

Liz snorts at the futile effort and the handcuffed man merely picks up steam, his voice growing into a shout. Ressler sighs in defeat.

“At least you didn’t get knifed,” she mutters to him, feeling the nasty cut on her cheek sting with the movement of her mouth, and Ressler grimaces in sympathy.

“Sorry again, Keen.”

“Not your fault,” Liz reassures him with a shrug, as the elevator doors finally groan open onto the busy floor.

The first thing Liz sees, other than the familiar flash of the huge mounted computer screens, is an equally familiar form standing near Aram’s desk.

Oh no.

Red’s not supposed to be here. Liz didn’t think he would be here waiting for them to return. She was counting on more time to clean up her face.

But it’s too late now.

She watches as Red’s head swivels towards them at the noisy clank of the elevator doors and the pleasant smile melts right off his face as he takes in the blood still dripping down her cheek.

Great.

In the next moment, he’s striding towards them across the floor, purpose in his gaze, and Liz wastes no time trying to steer their blacklister, along with Ressler, towards the interrogation rooms. But Red is too quick and their perp is suspiciously quiet now, dragging his feet and generally being very unhelpful as Liz feels a strong grip on her upper arm, separating her from the blacklister and leading her away from her colleague.

“Excuse us a moment, Donald.”

Ressler knows better than to argue, saying nothing as Red tugs Liz away, pulling her down a dark hallway and further into the depths of the Post Office.

Liz allows herself to be dragged along, sighing internally, knowing there’s no point in protesting. He won’t listen to her anyway. But she makes half an attempt to reassure him.

“Red, it looks worse than it is, don’t –”

But she’s interrupted as he jerks her around, firmly but gently, to push her back against the wall, and Liz finds herself suddenly face to face with Red.

(And she’d be lying if she said his fierce expression didn’t send a thrill right through her, his eyes blazing with anger, dimly illuminated in the minimal lighting in this part of the Post Office.

He’s a vision.)

Red’s hand creeps up to push lightly on her chin, tilting her head up as he studies the wound on her face. It’s not a deep cut - she was only grazed - but it still bled a fair bit, making a mess of the side of her face, and it’s that that has Red wiping gently with his thumb, nostrils flaring.

He says only five words, speaking slowly and clearly, his voice tight with anger.

“Who did this to you?”

(And the growl of his voice, combined with the already compromising look in his gorgeous eyes, takes her breath away, rendering her speechless for a long moment while he stares at her.

He’s so beautiful.)

“Your blacklister was a little...overzealous,” she whispers, breathless and soft.

(She can’t help it. He has that effect on her.)

Red’s eyes sear into her.

“Antonio and I will have to have a little...chat.”

She shivers at the dangerous threat in his voice, paired with the fearsome look on his face in the red-tinted half-light of the back hallway.

With one last brusque caress of her face, Red whirls around and heads back towards the floor, grabbing her hand to tug her along behind him.

Liz sighs.

And she has a feeling that Red will be hovering a little more than normal in the coming days, while the cut is still fresh and visible on her face.

Liz smiles to herself.

She can’t say she minds.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is based on this tumblr prompt:
> 
> Character A tilting Character B’s chin up to get a better look at their face and the evidence of the fight. A delicately thumbs away the streak of blood by B’s mouth, saying nothing as they examine it. After a brief pause, B’s heart skips a nervous beat as A looks them dead in the eyes. Their voice is quiet and tense, their anger barely restrained.
> 
> “Who did this to you?”
> 
> link: https://meetmeatthecoda.tumblr.com/post/186832396850/counterpunches-whumpster-dumpster-character-a

“Damn you, Red!”

He can’t get out of the way in time, can’t manage to bring an arm up to block the blow before the fist comes sailing towards him, and he has no choice but to take the hit right on his mouth.

Red staggers backwards and tastes blood immediately. He rolls his eyes inwardly.

Wonderful. A split lip.

It’s hardly a life-threatening injury but, from his defensive position, he sees a form dart forward to block any further attack. Red assumes it’s Dembe, his loyal protector, but then he catches a glimpse of dark hair.

Lizzie.

“Dembe—”

It seems Red’s still a second behind real time because, before he can even get his name out fully, Dembe is moving forward to assist and protect Lizzie.

(Bless Dembe.)

But, as Red finally regains his balance and rights himself, he catches sight of a prone form on the floor and sees that he had absolutely no reason at all to worry about Lizzie.

She’s knocked his attacker out in one punch.

Well then.

And she’s turning to him now, her jaw tightening as she sees his lip, crowding close and peering up into his face. Her hand raises to cradle his face and her thumb swipes at the trickle of blood running down his chin.

He watches as her eyes flash, feels an answering skip in his heartbeat at the familiar expression, usually present in quite a different context.

(Because her penchant for this particular look on him is no secret between them.)

But he can see concern and anger winning out over her arousal, and he is oddly touched by the sight. Before he can get too choked up, he speaks, playfully chastising.

“Now, Lizzie, was that really necessary?”

She doesn’t look at all amused, however, and says nothing for a moment, just wipes another trickle of blood from his lip before she speaks six words, firm and dangerous, her normally melodious voice low and flat.

“No one does this to you.”

She turns away with that fierce expression still in place, looking down with derision and disgust at the sorry man who tried to hurt him.

Red sighs.

And he has a feeling that Lizzie will be a little more...forceful with her affections in the coming days, while his lip is still swollen and bruised.

Red smirks to himself.

He can’t say he minds.


End file.
